Human Again
by So-crates Johnson
Summary: A series of short one-shots written for the February 2014 prompt on Bittersweet & Strange. The prompt was: "Write a scene or story about the prince doing something he couldn't do as a beast."
1. At First Blush

"Belle, I know we've only known each other for a few months," Adam began, gazing deeply into a pair of wide brown eyes. "But I feel like I've been waiting for you for all of my life. And I wasted so much of that time before I met you, that now that we've found each other, I don't want to waste any more of it. I mean, not that I feel like _this_ is a waste of time," he explained hurriedly, motioning between himself and his companion with panicked gestures. "This - _no_ - this is _great_! It's great, right?" He cringed as the eyes looked back at him, silent and unflinching.

He cleared his throat. "Right," he continued, focusing on the ring he was nervously twirling around his fingers. "What I mean is, the short while that we've been together has completely changed my life. You saw something in me that I don't think anyone else would have been able to see. You've given me hope and happiness when I had forgotten what those things even felt like. And I know that I want to spend the rest of my life doing that for you. I want to give you everything that you've ever wanted. And that's why I hope that you'll agree to ... to ... marry me?"

Adam looked up expectantly and was rewarded with a wet, sloppy lick. "Ugh!" he grunted, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He shot a disgruntled look at Sultan, who gazed down at him from the chair with an adoring expression, tail wagging furiously. _Well, at least the dog would say 'yes,'_ the prince thought to himself. Aloud, he said "No, no, _no_, that was awful."

He rose from his stooped position and began to pace before the fireplace, running a hand anxiously through his hair. He thought he had been nervous when he had asked Maurice for permission to marry Belle, but this was easily ten times worse. "Belle will be here any minute, and I still have no idea how I'm going to do this," he moaned, looking beseechingly at his furry friend. Sultan's only response was a happy little yip. "A lot of help _you_ turned out to be," Adam grumbled.

Why was this so hard? In all of the fairy tales he had read with Belle, the princes had always made it look so easy. Effortless, even. Almost as if they had been assured, before they had even posed the question to their princesses, that the answer would be "yes." _They_ certainly hadn't spent hours rehearsing a dozen awkward speeches before a dog. But then, none of them had been proposing to a girl like Belle. The princesses in those fairy tales had all been lovely and kind, but none of them had anything on the woman who he hoped would agree to be_ his_ wife. Belle was more than beautiful and sweet. She was smart, and brave, and she had saved him - not to mention every other person in the castle - in more ways than one. He loved her with all of his heart, but finding the words to adequately express those feelings - without humiliating himself in the process - was proving to be impossible. He briefly considered waiting for another day, perhaps one when he was feeling a little more articulate, but the thought of enduring this anxiety for even another moment made his stomach churn in protest.

"Okay, okay," Adam resolved, getting back down on one knee in front of the chair. "How about this?" He took a deep breath, looking seriously at Sultan as he held out the ring. "Belle - "

"Adam, what are you _doing_?"

Adam toppled over at the sound of the voice. He quickly shoved the ring into the pocket of his jacket as he scrambled to his feet and turned to face the speaker. "What? I, uh, nothing! I was ... I was just trying to teach Sultan a ... a new trick," he finished lamely, smiling innocently at Belle as his face flooded with warmth. Sultan bounded from the sofa and leaped excitedly around Belle's legs.

"Oh ...," Belle responded slowly as she reached down to scratch the dog's ears. "Well, I'm sorry if I caught you by surprise. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"_What?_" Adam exclaimed. "I'm not _embarrassed_," he scoffed with an embarrassed laugh.

"You're not," Belle observed dryly.

"Nope." Adam shook his head, and flashed her another innocent smile.

"Then why are you blushing?" Belle countered.

"_What_?" Adam sputtered incredulously. "I'm not ... I don't_ blush_!"

"Adam," Belle began patiently, "your face is bright red. Even ...," she giggled, "... even your_ ears_ are red." She reached a finger out to trace the shell of his ear, smiling in amusement.

"I_ don't_ blush," Adam insisted. "I never have."

"Well, you do _now_," Belle stated smugly, folding her arms across her chest. She gazed thoughtfully at Adam's sulking expression, so adorably like the Beast's. "I bet you've always done it, and it just wasn't ..._ visible_. You know, beneath the fur," she murmured, reaching out again to stroke his smooth, still red cheek.

"Great," Adam muttered sarcastically, wondering how quickly it would be possible for him to grow a beard.

"I think it's cute," Belle said firmly, her hand still cupping the side of his face as she studied him.

"You _do_?"

"Mmmhmm," she answered, smiling up at him.

"Huh," Adam breathed, reflecting on this new information. Well if she thought it was _cute_ ... it occurred to him that perhaps he could put this recently discovered trait to his advantage. He patted his pocket unconsciously, fingers brushing over the almost imperceptible bump created by the ring. Then he reached for Belle's hand, leading her to the recently vacated chair. "Well, in that case, I _do_ have a question I'd like to ask you ..."


	2. The Hangover

_Thump, thump, thump_. Adam groaned as he rolled to bury his face in his pillow. His skull felt as if it were about to split wide open, a sensation that was only amplified by the persistent pounding in his brain. He didn't even know it was possible for a headache to hurt this badly; the agony was so intense that it caused his stomach to churn violently, and he almost prayed for the nausea to overtake him just in the hopes that it might bring some relief.

_Thump, thump thump_. "_Please stop_," Adam begged, the words barely audible thanks to the uncomfortable dryness that filled his mouth.

"Master?" came a voice, the sound blessedly muffled by the heavy doors. "Is everything all right?"

Adam's eyes snapped open when he realized that the incessant pounding _wasn't_ in his head. He immediately regretted the action as the sunlight streaming in through the windows assaulted his retinas. "Lumiere?" he croaked, squeezing his eyes shut again. He rolled back toward the door and eased his eyes open cautiously, just in time to see his maître d' step hesitantly into the room.

"Is everything all right?" he repeated.

"I think I'm dying, Lumiere," Adam moaned.

Lumiere raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic, Master?"

"No," Adam responded petulantly, put somewhat off by his friend's seeming lack of concern for his dire condition.

"Well, I don't think you're dying," Lumiere said gently. "You just overindulged at the celebration last night. Much like the rest of us, I'm afraid."

Adam frowned. "I don't understand," he rasped. "Was it something I ate? I've never felt so sick in my entire life. I don't remember feeling like this when I went to sleep." He paused. "Actually, I don't even remember _going_ to sleep."

Lumiere regarded him sympathetically. "I do not believe this is the work of the food, no."

"Then what's wrong with me?" Adam implored.

"Master, do you remember when you were ten years old, and your and your cousin Louis swiped the bottle of champagne from your parents' _Réveillon_?"

Adam's brow furrowed in pain and confusion. "Yes, but what does that have to do with me being sick _now_?"

"Do you remember what happened to you the day _after_ you and Louis drank all of that champagne?" Lumiere prompted.

"Of course," Adam responded. "My father was furious. In fact, he said the only reason he didn't punish me was the fact that he knew the punishment I had brought on myself was worse than anything he could ever - _oh_." Adam went momentarily silent as realization dawned on him. "_Non_, it can't be that," he insisted. "I only had _one _glass of wine. Or perhaps it was two ... but no more than that. I'm ... almost sure of it." It was true. He had been so busy socializing with the servants, who were eager to speak with him and Belle in the aftermath of the transformation, that he'd barely found time to refill his glass.

"I did not drink much more than that, and I still awoke to the worst _gueule de bois _you could imagine. Well, maybe _you_ could imagine worse." Lumiere eyed him shrewdly. Adam peered at his friend in surprise, for the first time noticing his weary features and sallow complexion. He had certainly looked better. "And you should see Cogsworth." A ghost of a smirk flickered across Lumiere's face. "So much for what they say about the English and their ability to drink."

Adam winced as another wave of nausea washed over him. "What happened to us?" he asked feebly. "Do you think it's some side effect of the transformation?"

"I think," Lumiere answered slowly, "that ten years of sobriety can do funny things to a man's tolerance for alcohol."

"Wonderful," Adam moaned. "Couldn't the enchantress have done something about that?"

"An oversight, I'm sure," Lumiere responded dryly.

Another thought suddenly occurred to Adam. "I didn't do anything ... _embarrassing_ ... last night, did I?" he asked. His face went red as he imagined all of the ways in which he might have made a fool of himself in front of Belle and her father.

"If you did, I honestly do not remember," Lumiere shook his head. "I think we were all in a bit of a celebratory mood last night."

"And everyone else?" Adam asked. "Are they all right?"

"It was nothing that could not be improved by a little breakfast. Which is why I was sent to retrieve you. We thought it best to let you be in the hopes that you might sleep it off, but the day is getting quite late. If you like, I can have Mrs. Potts bring your meal to you in here."

"No, thank you, Lumiere," Adam responded. His vision went blurry as he struggled to a sitting position, and Lumiere hurried forward to hold him steady. "That won't be necessary; I can make it to the dining hall."

"Are you certain?" Lumiere asked doubtfully.

"I think so," said Adam. "But would you please do me a favor?"

"Of course, Master, anything."

"The next time someone offers me a glass of wine, would you please remind me of how awful I feel right now?" Adam took a deep breath to fight the bile he could feel rising in his throat once more. "I'm _never_ drinking again."


	3. A Brush With Disaster

_This was mostly inspired by a prompt to write a story based on an adorable piece of fanart, but I figured it could also kind of fit with this theme.  
><em>

Belle shifted in her seat and glanced up at the clock on the mantle. It was going to take some time to get used to the fact that the clock no longer looked _back_ at her, she thought ruefully. "Surprised" hardly described her feelings to learn that all of the inhabitants of the castle, the people she'd come to regard as friends - and, in one particular instance, more than a friend - had been under an enchantment all along. She had watched each and every one of them transform back into their human selves the night before, and yet a small part of her still wondered if she hadn't dreamed the whole thing. If it weren't for the fact that she had barely slept long enough to make dreaming even possible - she had stayed up most of the night talking with Adam - she might have actually given that explanation more credence.

_Speaking of Adam_, she thought with a frown, _he should have been here thirty minutes ago_. It had been his idea to meet in the library before breakfast, and yet he was nowhere to be seen. She didn't think he would have forgotten. Had he overslept? What if he was hurt? Belle bit her lip as she considered that possibility. He _had_ lost a lot of blood the previous night. He had seemed fine when she had last seen him, though, just a little tired. But once the idea had occurred to her, she couldn't let it go, and she knew she wouldn't feel better until she had checked in on him. She hesitated for only a moment before placing her book down on the settee and getting to her feet.

As she made her way to Adam's chambers, she marveled at the transformation that had taken place in the West Wing. Gone was the dreary, foreboding decor and general sense of neglect. In their places stood beautiful portraits and elegant-looking furniture. Bright light poured in through the large hall windows, and she could hear birds chirping cheerfully outside. As Belle reached a hand toward the doors, she noticed that even the knockers had been replaced with the likenesses of smiling cherubs. The metamorphosis lent her surroundings a pleasing and serene quality.

And then the serenity was broken by a string of colorful expletives that rang out from the room beyond doors. Though she was still getting used to the voice, the tone was one that she recognized immediately. This fact brought her an odd sort of comfort as she rapped on the door.

"Adam?"

"_Belle_?" the voice responded. "What are you doing here?"

"What am_ I_ doing here? You were supposed to meet me in the library half an hour ago. Adam, is everything ok in there?"

"Everything is fine!"

"May I come in?"

"_No_!" he answered sharply.

"What? Why not?"

"I don't want you to see me like this!"

"See you like _what_?" Belle asked. But before the words had completely left her mouth, a terrifying prospect leaped into her head: what if the break in the curse had only been temporary? Was it possible that he had been transformed back into the Beast during the night, and was now too ashamed to come out of the West Wing?

"I can't explain right now. Just ... don't come in here!"

Belle pressed her face against the door, closing her eyes to stop the tears that threatened to spill from them. Based on the sheer joy he had exhibited at being returned to his human form, she could only imagine how heartbroken he must be now to have discovered that it was only a temporary reprieve. "Adam, it's ok. I know it's scary, but we can get through this. _Please_, let me help." Her heart jumped into her throat as she heard a loud crash on the other side of the door. "That's it - Adam, I'm coming in!"

"_No_, Belle!" Adam exclaimed. But it was too late. Belle pushed the heavy doors open with a surprising amount of force, and when she saw what waited for her on the other side, she stopped dead in her tracks. Then she lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle an involuntary giggle. Her handsome prince stood before her, half-dressed but very human, his deep blue eyes clouded with frustration. His long hair was a disheveled auburn mass, and what appeared to be the handle of a brush protruded conspicuously from the locks at the crown of his head.

Belle's shoulders sagged in relief, and she pressed her lips firmly together in an attempt to hide the smile that was about to break across her face. "Do - do you want to tell me what happened?" she asked, trying to look him in the eyes and _not_ stare at his head. Her voice trembled only a little bit.

Adam scowled. "No, I do not."

Belle crossed her arms and fixed him with a look that told him he didn't actually have a choice in the matter. Adam glared back defiantly for a few seconds before exhaling in defeat. "The brush is stuck," he muttered, rolling his eyes upward in the direction of the offending implement.

"I see that," Belle said evenly.

"I was getting ready to come meet you. I wanted to look ... nice." He said this almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it. "But my hair - there's more of it than I remember there being. And it was so messy. I tried to brush it, but that only seemed to make it worse. And then, I don't know how it happened, but it just got _stuck_. And the harder I try to pull it out, the more stuck it seems to get."

"Would you like some help getting it out?" Belle offered.

"Yes ... please," Adam grumbled gratefully.

Belle smiled and led him to the dressing table, where she motioned for him to sit on the bench. From this vantage point, she could look down easily at the top of his head. She winced when she saw the mess of tangles wound around the brush - _how_ had Adam managed to get it so hopelessly stuck in there? She wrapped her fingers around the handle and gave it a light tug, but it wouldn't budge. This was going to take a while. "All right," she said. "I need you to hold still while I work on this. It ... might hurt, a little." A slight sense of déjà vu washed over her as she examined the brush from several angles. The best thing, she decided, was to try to untangle the hair a little bit at a time. She attacked a small section, gently trying to work it free from its bristly confines. She could feel Adam's shoulders tense as she tugged on the strands, but he obediently held still.

"Why didn't you ask one of the servants help you with this?" Belle wondered as she wiggled the brush experimentally. Its grip on Adam's hair seemed to have loosened the tiniest bit.

"I gave them all the day off," Adam admitted. "Plus, I wanted to try to do this by myself."

"Well that was very ambitious of you," Belle remarked. She heard a sharp intake of breath as she untangled a particularly stubborn knot. "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly.

"I should be the one apologizing to you," Adam responded gloomily.

"Whatever for?"

"For making you do ... this." He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of his head.

"I don't mind it."

"You don't mind spending the morning helping a grown man with a task that even a child can manage on his own?" Adam asked incredulously.

"I don't mind spending the morning helping _you_," Belle corrected him. She carefully unraveled another bit of hair from the brush's grasp. "You spent the last ten years doing everything as a beast. It must be daunting to have everything you've grown used to change on you all of the sudden."

"But I'm _happy_ to be human again," Adam protested.

"I know you are. And I'm happy that you're happy. I only meant that you should be patient with yourself. It may take a little while to adjust to all of this again. Mentally _and_ physically," Belle cautioned.

"Patience has never been one of my strengths," Adam grumbled.

Belle smirked. "So I've noticed."

"How is it that _you_ can be so patient with me?"

"It's easy. I love you."

Adam smiled smugly. "I know." Belle swatted his shoulder playfully, and he reached up to grab her hand. "I love you, too," he said, twisting in his seat to look at her.

"You better," Belle responded, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. "Who else would have been able to get _this_ out of that mane you call your hair?" She held up the liberated brush with a triumphant grin. Adam's eyes widened in surprise and relief. "Now, would you like me to show you how to brush your hair so that you don't end up with something stuck in it again?" she offered.

Adam nodded. Belle retrieved a hand mirror from the dressing table and held it out to him. "So you can see what I'm doing," she explained. Then she took the brush to his hair. "It helps if you start at the ends and work your way up. Like this," she instructed, watching his expression in the mirror to make sure he was following her motions. "You can't just force it through." In short time, she had brushed his hair to a flowing, tangle-free shine. "There," she announced, running her fingers through it easily. "What do you think?"

Adam examined his reflection. "Huh," he said with a grin. "That's ... much better. It looked a bit silly with the brush stuck in it."

"Did it?" Belle asked innocently. "I hadn't noticed."


	4. Cabin Fever

"Ahem."

Maurice coughed in what felt like the dozenth attempt to get Adam's attention, but he might as well have been trying to arm wrestle Gaston for all of the success he was having. The prince continued to gaze raptly across the breakfast table at Belle, chin propped up lazily on one hand and by all appearances unaware that anyone else was even in the room. And Belle - well, she clearly wasn't going to be any help, Maurice noted with dismay. A faint smile graced her lips, and she was regarding her admirer with the sort of dreamy, faraway look that she normally reserved for her favorite books. That, plus she had just dumped a large spoonful of salt into her cup and was now stirring it idly into her tea.

In the two weeks since the enchantment had been lifted, situations like this had become a regular occurrence in the castle. In fact, it had become something of a joke among the household staff, who had made a game of seeing who could get the perpetually distracted prince to agree to the most absurd requests. Maurice normally appreciated the humor of the circumstances, but at the present moment, he gave a little huff of impatience. He had important business to attend to, business that was being delayed by his inability to yank his companions' heads out of the clouds.

Fortunately, he was about to get some help from a furry, four-legged friend. Sultan suddenly dashed into the room, barking noisily and chasing after some invisible quarry. Belle jumped in her seat, and Adam bolted upright, blinking dazedly as if coming out of a trance. The shaggy mutt completed several frenzied laps around the table before darting beneath it, but by that time, the spell had been broken.

_Good dog_, Maurice thought, quietly slipping Sultan a piece of ham from his plate. Then he seized his opportunity before Belle and Adam had a chance to resume their dewy-eyed staring contest. "Adam," he said quickly. "I wondered if I might borrow your carriage today?"

Adam's eyes snapped up. For the briefest moment, he seemed startled to see Maurice sitting across from him. "Oh - I'm so sorry. What was that?"

"I need to purchase some materials for an invention that I'm working on, and I was hoping to borrow your carriage this afternoon? That is, if you're not using it?"

"No. I mean_ yes_! I mean - _no_," the prince stammered. He gave his head a desperate shake. "_No_, I'm not using it. Please, feel free to take the carriage for as long as you need it."

Maurice smiled and rubbed his hands together, pleased to finally have_ that_ out of the way. "Thank you." Adam opened his mouth as if to respond, and then quickly closed it. He looked down at the table with a frown. Maurice watched with a sort of detached curiosity as the younger man silently pushed his food around his plate.

"What are you working on, Papa?" Belle inquired.

Maurice smiled apologetically. "I'd rather not say just yet. I'm still working out the kinks, but I think I can have it up and running in a few days if I can find all of the parts I need. That's why I want to try to get out today, so that I'm free to spend the rest of the week hunkered down in my workshop." He winked cheerfully at his daughter.

"Well don't spend_ too_ much time hiding in there," Belle laughed. "A change of scenery now and then is good for you."

"Says the girl who rarely comes out of her library." As he said this, Maurice noticed Adam sneaking a furtive look in his direction.

"That's not true!" Belle protested. "Today I may go read in the gardens ...,"

"Monsieur, would you mind if I come?" Adam blurted. He reddened as Belle and Maurice turned toward him in surprise. "You, uh, you might need some help bringing your supplies back," he suggested sheepishly.

Maurice raised an eyebrow. "You want to come into the village with me?" Aside from one heartfelt but incredibly awkward apology, he had not had any real, one-on-one conversations with the prince since being invited to remain in the castle. In fact, Maurice had assumed with some amusement - and just a tiny bit of pride - that he intimidated the young man. But now he was willingly volunteering to help with an errand that would require them to spend the better part of the afternoon together, alone?

Perhaps he had overcome his nerves, although that didn't seem likely judging by his self-conscious behavior. There had to be another explanation for the change of heart. Could there be some reason that his daughter's friend would want to speak with him, privately? And that was when it hit him. _Of course ... _ A knowing smile crept across Maurice's face, and he glanced sideways at Belle to see if she suspected anything. But Adam's request appeared to have left her utterly bewildered. _Good_, Maurice thought giddily.

"It might be a long trip," he cautioned, turning back to Adam. "I'm not planning to go into Molyneux; I'm going to visit a friend's shop in Autrèche."

"That's all right," Adam responded automatically. "I don't have any pressing engagements today."

Maurice's bushy mustache twitched at his choice of words. "Well in that case, I'd be glad for the company. Why don't we meet in the courtyard after breakfast?" Adam grinned excitedly, and Maurice was positive that his suspicions had been confirmed. He was already preparing a mental list of all the plans that would have to be made when his reverie was interrupted by a sudden violent fit of coughing.

"Sorry!" Belle gasped, her watery eyes peeking out over the hem of the napkin that was clutched to her face. "I think something is wrong with my tea!"

* * *

><p>Much to Maurice's surprise, the long ride into Autrèche was uneventful. Adam had practically inhaled the remainder of his breakfast in his haste to excuse himself from the table. And according to Cogsworth, he had been waiting beside the carriage for a full fifteen minutes before Maurice had joined him in the courtyard - a fact that obviously fostered some resentment in majordomo, who found himself constantly nagging the prince about his notorious lack of punctuality. He was certain that Adam would waste no time in revealing his real reason for wanting to make the trip. But Adam hadn't said a single word; instead, he had drummed his fingers restlessly against the glass as he gazed out the window. When Maurice had placed a hand on his shoulder, he had jerked back from the pane in surprise.<p>

"This is the place. Do you want to come inside with me?"

Adam nodded and followed Maurice into the large shop, which consisted of a haphazard arrangement of shelves and bins stocked with various tools, hardware, and mechanical parts. A man a few years younger than Maurice looked up from behind the counter as they walked in, and his face broke into a wide smile. "Maurice!" he exclaimed, hurrying out to meet them.

"Hello, Marcel. How is business?" Maurice greeted the man merrily, reaching out to grasp his hand.

"Very good, very good. And you? You had us all worried when you didn't show for the fair in Orléans."

"Ah ...," Maurice said slowly. "Yes, I was planning to be there, but I got a little ... sidetracked. However, I fully intend to be in Le Mans next month to claim first prize."

"Oho!" Marcel's booming laugh echoed throughout the shop. "Not if I have anything to say about it!"

"You can _say_ 'congratulations' when I take the blue ribbon home," Maurice countered good-naturedly.

Marcel grinned. "Well you certainly seem confident. What is this award-winning invention you're working on?"

"I'm afraid that's a surprise," Maurice smiled. "In fact, we're actually here to find some parts that I need to finish it."

At the word "we," Marcel's attention shifted to Adam. "I'm sorry, I haven't properly introduced myself." He reached over to shake Adam's hand. "Marcel-Claude Marteau. You must be Maurice's ... son?"

"_Oh_, no. This is Belle's ...," Maurice trailed off, glancing over at his companion as he considered how to finish the sentence. Belle's friend? Suitor? Formerly enchanted prince? He might have a different title by the end of the day if Maurice's hunch was correct, but he didn't want to get ahead of himself. Besides, none of Belle's previous admirers had ever shown such eagerness for his approval, and he was sort of enjoying watching Adam squirm a bit. He suspected that this might be his one and only chance to command this sort of respect, so he felt that he should make the most of the opportunity while it lasted.

"This is Adam," is what he finally settled on.

"A pleasure to meet you, Belle's Adam."

"Likewise, sir," Adam responded.

"Well, I'll leave the two of you to it, then," Marcel said, catching the eye of another customer. "Let me know if you have trouble finding anything," he called over his shoulder as he made his way to the shop's entrance, leaving Maurice and Adam alone.

Maurice glanced around surreptitiously and then carefully unrolled a diagram depicting a complicated-looking piece of machinery. "Let's see," Maurice muttered as he consulted the sketch. "If you can find me some glass paper, I'll look for the rivets." He looked up at Adam for confirmation, only to see that the prince was looking past him with a bemused smile, his hand raised in a tentative wave. Maurice turned to see a girl of about two or three years standing in the doorway of the shop. The child was clutching the hand of a man who Maurice assumed was her father, and she was waving cheerfully at Adam. "Adam? Adam?" he repeated, turning back to his companion.

Adam jumped and looked back at Maurice guiltily. "Yes. Right. I'll be right back."

Satisfied that Adam had the glass paper under control, Maurice turned his attention to the rivets. He had been in Marcel's shop a few times before and was familiar with his friend's system of organization, so he was able to locate most of the items that he needed in relatively short time. In fact, he had found nearly everything on his list before he began to wonder where Adam was. The shop wasn't _that_ big; it shouldn't be too difficult to locate a few little pieces of glass paper. He peered around a stack of boxes and nearly collided with the prince head-on.

"I'm so sorry!" Adam exclaimed, backing up. "It took me a little while to find these." He held out a small handful of springs.

Maurice frowned in confusion. "Oh, I - thank you? What are these?" he asked, accepting the little metal coils.

"Springs," Adam answered proudly.

"I - well, yes, I see that ...," Maurice murmured, trying to think of how to rephrase his question without making the prince feel badly. Fortunately, Adam seemed to catch on to his mistake.

"This ... isn't what you asked for. Is it?"

"I'm afraid not."

"You asked for ...,"

"Glass paper."

"Glass paper. Right. Of course." Adam held up a finger. "I'll be right back." He hurried off before Maurice could say anything more. _And I thought _Belle _was distracted_, Maurice thought with an amused shake of his head. He entertained himself while he waited for Adam by perusing Marcel's collection of hand tools. Perhaps if he won first prize at the next inventors' fair, he would invest some of his winnings in a shiny new set for himself. However, when Adam failed to return after several minutes, Maurice decided to go looking for him; it was getting late, and they were going to need to start home soon. He found the prince a few aisles over, staring out a window that looked out onto the busy marketplace. A small roll of material was clutched in his hand, forgotten.

"Oh good, you've found the glass paper," Maurice remarked, reaching out a hand to accept the coarse fabric from Adam's grasp. "That's everything I need, so we can be on our way once I've settled with Marcel." Adam's face fell. "Er ... unless there was something that _you_ needed?"

Adam looked up hopefully. "Ah. Yes!" He turned toward the window, his eyes quickly scanning the marketplace. "Perhaps ... we should get some ... bread?"

"Bread?" Maurice repeated uncertainly. "I thought Mrs. Potts was planning to bake today?"

"Oh. Well what about a ... a hat?"

Maurice cocked his head to the side. "You need ... a hat?" he asked slowly.

"No," Adam shook his head. "You do!"

"I _do_?"

"Yes," Adam nodded emphatically. "To replace the one you lost - that is, the one _I_ lost. Well, I didn't so much _lose_ it as ... you know ... it might have gotten _damaged_ when I ... when I sent you home ...,"

"Oh, that's not really necessary -,"

"_Please_, I insist. Look, there's a milliner right across the square. It won't take us more than a few minutes."

Maurice looked out the window, and, sure enough, the milliner was exactly where Adam said it would be ... right next to the _boulangerie_ selling freshly baked rolls. Was that just a coincidence, or ... "Are you just naming objects that you see in the marketplace?" he wondered aloud. However, any further rebuke died on his lips when he turned back and saw the prince's face.

Adam looked so _earnest_ that the tiny, slightly sadistic part of him that took pleasure in tormenting his daughter's beau softened. It had been a lifetime ago, but he could vividly remember how terrified he had been when he had approached his late wife's father for her hand. Adam was already under a lot of pressure between re-adjusting to human life and assuming his royal responsibilities; perhaps it was unfair of him to enjoy putting the boy through this added anxiety. "It's all right, son," he sighed. "Forget about the hat - it's not important. I know what this is really about."

"You - you do?"

"Of course. I've known since before we left the castle."

"You _have_?" Adam gaped.

"Yes. And I know it isn't an easy thing to ask, so why don't we just ... skip over all of the awkward parts? My answer is yes."

Adam furrowed his brow. "Yes ...?"

"Yes, you have my blessing to marry Belle."

Adam's eyes widened. "_Oh_, that's not why ... I mean I _do_ want to ... I had been planning to ask, but - wait. _Really_?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"A little," Adam admitted. "After everything I put you through, I didn't expect it to be that ... easy."

"I can make it harder if it would make you feel better," Maurice offered.

"No, that's all right," Adam quickly assured him.

Maurice chuckled. "I thought as much. But I'm confused. You didn't come with me to get my permission to marry Belle. And I don't think you came to get a hat." Adam looked away in embarrassment. "So why drag yourself away from the castle for the entire day just to help me with some chores? I could have managed on my own."

Adam exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know. I guess ... I guess it's just been so long since I was _able_ to leave the castle. And I wasn't sure when I'd get another chance."

Maurice frowned. "What do you mean? Did the curse prevent you from leaving?"

"Well, not literally. But I couldn't very well just walk into town like _this_." Adam waved a hand to indicate their surroundings.

"Huh." Maurice had never thought about it, but he supposed that it made sense. "But wait - are you telling me you haven't set foot outside the castle in _ten years_?"

"Well I've gone into the woods to - to hunt. But only at night, when I didn't think anyone else would be there. I couldn't risk someone seeing me."

"But how did you expect to break the curse if you wouldn't even let anyone _see_ you?"

"I don't think I _did_ expect to break it," Adam confessed.

"You didn't?"

"You saw what I was. If _you_ looked like that, would you believe that someone could fall in love with you?"

"You didn't look_ that_ bad," Maurice lied.

Adam smiled at him sadly. "The men in your village were ready to_ kill_ me, and all they saw was my image in the mirror."

"Yes, well, they had a little encouragement," Maurice said uncomfortably, remembering how quickly Gaston had managed to whip the villagers into a frenzy. "And besides, you were wrong - someone _did_ fall in love with you."

That finally drew a real smile. "Yes, someone did."

Maurice smiled back, but his smile gradually faded into a thoughtful frown. "So you were prepared to spend the rest of your life cooped up in your castle like a prisoner, just to avoid being seen?"

Adam shrugged awkwardly.

"That sounds terribly lonely," Maurice observed.

"It was."

Maurice laid a hand on the prince's arm. "I'm glad that things worked out differently."

"So am I."

Maurice cleared his throat. "You know ... I never realized how nice it is to have some company on these trips. Belle never liked coming into town with me; she usually preferred to stay home and read, which I'm sure comes as no surprise." Adam laughed in agreement. "Anyway, I'll probably have to make more visits to Marcel's shop from time to time. And I know you'll probably be very busy in the next few months, but if you ever have the time to spare, well, you'd be welcome to come along whenever you like."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"I'd like that."

"So would I. Besides, I have a feeling we'll have a lot to talk about very soon," Maurice said with a wink.


	5. Cold Hands, Warm Heart

It wasn't fair. For the first time in nearly a decade, Adam should have been able to sleep easily knowing that the curse that had afflicted him and his friends for so long - the curse for which _he_ had deservedly borne the brunt of the blame - had finally been lifted. And yet slumber danced just beyond his grasp, tantalizingly close but hopelessly unattainable.

It wasn't that he wasn't tired. In fact, he was more exhausted than he could remember being in quite a long time. But his old, familiar surroundings - the rooms to which he'd retreated every night since he was a boy - were suddenly foreign to him, and the sensation was unsettling. And it was more than the fact that his quarters _looked _nicer after being restored to their former, well-cared for conditions. When he closed his eyes, the bed felt a little too big, the air a little too cool on his skin. Had the West Wing always been so large and drafty? Over and over, he felt himself on the verge of dozing off, only to be jolted back to full consciousness by an involuntary tremble in his limbs.

He burrowed further under the blankets as another chill shuddered through his body, but even the thick comforter couldn't completely shield him from the bite of the cold late-February air. He was never going to fall asleep at this rate. Uncurling from his fetal position, he sat up and looked around the room, searching for anything that could help him get warm. He supposed he could put on another layer of sleeping clothes, although he had none that were much warmer than what he was currently wearing. He had been lucky to find the woolen nightshirt and pants among the limited selection of garments left behind by his father. His gaze traveled from the wardrobe to the desk, and from the desk to the fireplace. And then his eyes widened.

He took a deep breath before kicking off the blankets and shuffling quickly over to the hearth, only to find his moment of triumph cut rudely short; he had no wood with which to start a fire. His shoulders slumped, and he groaned in defeat. It made sense; he hadn't used this fireplace in at least ten years. He hadn't needed to, when he'd had a thick coat of fur to keep him warm. He rubbed his arms briskly, trying to coax feeling back into limbs so cold they were nearly numb.

There had to be wood _somewhere_ in the castle. He closed his eyes, willing himself to remember when he had last lit a fire. It felt like ages ago, but in reality it had probably only been a day or two. He had been with Belle - they had been reading together - _in the library_! That was right; he had asked Axe to make sure that the library had an ample supply of firewood for Belle. There was bound to be some extra kindling in there. He grabbed a torch from the wall and, with a renewed sense of hope, hurried out of the West Wing.

Adam's footsteps echoed loudly in the dark hallways; with a trace of envy, he mused that he was probably the only one awake in the entire castle. When at last he reached the library, he pushed the doors open and was startled to find that a roaring fire was already burning in the fireplace. As he approached, he could feel the heat emanating from the blaze. The goosebumps on his flesh receded a bit with each step, and a blissful sigh escaped his lips. He moved toward the warmth as if pulled by a gentle force, and his eyes fluttered closed for the briefest moment; just long enough for his knee to collide with a low side table. His eyes flew open, and he cursed loudly as he lunged to catch the table before it toppled over. There was a gasp from the sitting area, followed by a head that peeked out over the top of the settee.

"Bea - Adam?"

"Belle! No, I'm fine - don't get up," he said as she started to rise from her seat. He set the table back in its place and limped toward her. "What are you doing in here?"

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted.

"Is your room warm enough?"

"Oh, my room is fine!" she assured him. "I think it's just all of the excitement. As tired as I am, I just can't seem to relax. I thought if I came in here to read, it might help me clear my head."

"Is it working?"

"Not really." She smiled somewhat ruefully, and it was a beautiful smile that left Adam momentarily unable to form a response. "What about you? Are you having trouble sleeping too?"

"A little."

"Would you like to sit and read with me for a while?"

"All right," Adam agreed, his exhaustion forgotten as he made his way around to the other side of the settee. As Belle came into his view, he couldn't help but smile. Her legs were drawn up underneath her, and she was bundled head-to-toe in a thick quilt, so that her face, her two hands, and the book were the only parts of her that were visible. The fire warmed his back as she shifted over to make room for him, and she offered him one end of the blanket as he sank into the corner. "Thanks," he murmured, tugging the blanket over his lap.

He looked over at Belle and caught her examining his profile curiously. It reminded him of the way she had studied him earlier that night on the balcony, just before they had kissed. He had replayed that moment in his head countless times over the last few hours, and now that she was once again in front of him, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. He wasn't exactly sure how to initiate the gesture though. The kiss on the balcony had been an act of pure instinct; she had been in his arms before he'd even realized what he was doing, and it had been wonderful. Here in the quiet library, though, with the opportunity to _think_ before acting, he was much more aware of his own inexperience.

Belle continued to hold his gaze as he reasoned with himself. If it were anyone else, the attention would have unnerved him, but from her he found it reassuring; she had seen him at his worst and loved him in spite of it. Hesitantly, Adam held out an arm. She smiled shyly at him before sliding across the cushion and settling herself into his embrace. The goosebumps returned, but this time for a different reason. She was warm against his side, and he tried unsuccessfully to ignore the fact that she was dressed only in nightclothes and a dressing gown. He swallowed. "So what are you reading?"

"The _Iliad_," Belle replied, holding up the book for him to inspect.

"Is it good?"

She nodded. "I think you would like it. It's about the end of the Trojan War. There are battles, meddling gods - even a little romance."

"Well, don't let me interrupt you. Read on."

"Actually ...," Belle hesitated, then pushed the book into his hands. "Do you think you would mind reading to me for a little while?"

"Oh." Adam looked at her in surprise before taking the book. "No, of course not."

Belle smiled at him gratefully. "It's silly, but it might help me get used to your voice."

"My voice?" Adam frowned self-consciously.

Belle blushed. "It's a nice voice! It's just ... different. That is, you still sound like you, but ... different. I don't know how else to explain it."

"Oh," Adam said again. He had noticed that he sounded different to his own ears, but he wasn't sure if it was because his _voice_ had changed, or because his human hearing was simply less sensitive. He looked down at the book in his hands. "Should I start from where you've left off?"

"Start from the beginning," Belle begged. "I'm not very far in, and I don't want you to miss out on anything."

"All right," Adam agreed, turning to the first page. "Book One. Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans..." Belle placed her head on his shoulder as he recounted the beginnings of the feud between Achilles and Agamemnon. He tilted his own head to rest on hers, and caught a brief whiff of flowers. It was a milder version of the sweet scent that he had grown so used to over the past several weeks, and its effect made him feel pleasantly drowsy. By the time he had reached the end of the first chapter, he was stifling a yawn.

"Should I go on to Book Two?" he asked. When Belle didn't reply, he lifted his head and saw that her eyes were closed. Her breathing was deep and even - she was sound asleep. For a moment, he considered waking her and escorting her back to her room. But remembering the difficulty she'd had in falling asleep, he couldn't bring himself to disturb her now. Besides, he was warm and comfortable, and he realized that he felt truly at ease for the first time since he had climbed into bed that night. He brushed a lock of hair back from Belle's face before setting the book on the floor, kissing the top of her head, and closing his eyes.


	6. Hide and Seek

Adam kicked at a rock as he meandered through the grounds, watching the stone bounce erratically down the dirt path. He turned to look up at the castle and sighed. He had hoped to take Belle on a walk through the gardens this morning. He had the entire day free for a change, and he had noticed yesterday (while gazing out the window during one of Cogsworth's long-winded lectures) that the lilies were starting to bloom. But Madame Armoire had whisked her away for yet another dress fitting immediately after breakfast. The wedding was still a month away, but the preparations had taken on a sudden sense of urgency that seemed to send everyone in the castle into a state of hysteria.

His eyes landed on Belle's window as he tried to imagine what was going on in the room beyond. It was going on close to three hours since the seamstress had absconded with his fiancee; what on earth were they doing in there? Surely, it couldn't take _that_ long to make a few alterations to a dress?

He searched for the rock as he resumed his wanderings, giving it another gentle nudge down the trail. This time, however, he was startled to see the rock roll back to him after a few seconds, stopping mere inches in front of his foot. He raised his eyes and was greeted by the sight of Chip Potts approaching from the opposite direction. Chip's hands were jammed in his pockets, and his eyes were fixed on the ground as he trudged along. He appeared not to have noticed Adam on the path ahead of him.

"Chip?" Adam called out to the boy.

Chip looked up. His eyes went wide. "Master Adam! I didn't see you! I didn't hit you with the rock, did I?"

"Oh! No, of course not," Adam assured him. Chip's expression sagged with relief, though it still carried a trace of the glumness that Adam had sensed moments before. "Chip," Adam began hesitantly, "is something wrong?"

Chip let out an exaggerated sigh before flopping onto a nearby bench. "I wanted to see if Belle would play a game with me, but Mama says she's busy getting fitted for her dress. They've been in there for _hours_."

Adam rolled his eyes in commiseration as he sat down next to Chip. "I know."

"Do you think they'll be done soon?" Chip asked hopefully.

"I have no idea," Adam responded truthfully, looking back up at the castle.

Chip's shoulders slumped. "Belle is busy, Mama is baking, Sultan is sleeping ... there's _nobody_ to play with!"

Adam smiled sympathetically. Like Chip, he'd been an only child; he remembered well how lonely it could be to grow up in a household full of busy adults. He had often wished for a playmate his own age, but typically had to make the most of the rare occasion when one of the adults could indulge him for a few hours. And now here he was: twenty-one years old and engaged to be married, yet still brooding over a few hours of relative solitude. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. "_I_ could play a game with you," he suggested.

Chip brightened. "Really?"

"Sure. What do you feel like playing? Chess?" Chip made a face and shook his head. Adam laughed. "All right. How about ... cards?"

"Mama says I'm not allowed."

"Oh." Adam frowned. "Well, let me think ...,"

"I know!" Chip exclaimed. "Let's play hide and seek!"

"Hide and seek?" Adam repeated. Chip nodded enthusiastically. Adam began to smile as the younger boy looked up at him eagerly. He and Belle had played hide and seek with Chip several times over the winter, when it had been too cold to venture outdoors; it was one of Chips' favorite activities. Back then, though, the game had been biased overwhelmingly in favor of the little boy; there were far more places in the castle for a little teacup to hide than there were for a hulking beast. But now, perhaps, they might be a little more evenly matched. "All right," Adam agreed, warming up to Chip's suggestion. "Hide and seek it is. Who is going to hide first?"

"I will!" Chip volunteered. "You stay here and count to fifty. And no peeking!"

Adam laughed as Chip raced off. He sat on the bench, closed his eyes, and began to count. When he reached fifty, he opened his eyes. He looked around before selecting a direction and setting off to look for Chip. A light breeze ruffled his hair as he checked behind statuary and under the low-hanging branches of an evergreen, only to come up empty-handed. He was certain he had found Chip when he noticed a nearby bush stir, but the source of the rustling turned out to be nothing more than a startled bunny who scampered away when Adam snuck up on its nest.

After about ten minutes of diligent searching, Adam stopped to lean against a large oak tree and scan the gardens. There were still a few places he had yet to explore; in fact, he had just made up his mind to head for the greenhouse when he heard a giggle from above. He looked up; Chip was sitting in the branches of the tree, swinging his legs and looking down at Adam with a cheeky smile that Adam couldn't help but return. "How did you get up there?" he asked.

"I climbed," Chip answered proudly before scrambling down. Adam caught him as he dangled from the lowest branch. "Pretty good, huh? Now it's your turn to hide."

Chip closed his eyes and started counting. Adam trotted away with a grin, his head turning this way and that as he searched the grounds. This was the part of the game he had really been looking forward to. After months spent lurking behind dusty old curtains that did little to conceal his bulk (or his large, hairy paws), he was determined to find a good hiding spot. And as he approached the small pond in the center of the gardens, he found one.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Chip wasn't yet in pursuit, and then hastened toward the little rowboat that was tethered to the landing. The boat wobbled precariously under his feet, and for a few tense seconds, Adam held his breath as he waited for it to capsize. But, miraculously, the boat steadied, and he was able to lower himself to the floor without tipping it over. He raised his head just enough to peer over the edge. Then, satisfied that boat's rocking hadn't given away his location, he ducked down and rolled onto his back. It was slightly cramped in the little skiff, but there was just enough room for him to stretch his legs fully. He shimmied his hips until he had settled himself into a comfortable position on the bottom of the boat, and then folded his arms behind his head. The sky was a brilliant blue above him, and he watched the wispy clouds drift slowly across his field of vision as he waited for Chip to come find him.

A few minutes later, Adam heard the sound of Chip's hurried footfalls running along the shoreline, and he braced himself for the inevitable "gotcha!" But instead, he heard the boy's steps growing fainter after a few moments; he was actually jogging _away_ from Adam's hiding spot! Adam smirked and congratulated himself on his cunning, even as he waited for Chip to realize his oversight and return to the pond. The warm May sunshine started to make him feel a bit drowsy, and he told himself that it wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for just a minute or two as he bided his time on the floor of the rowboat.

* * *

><p>"Adam? Adam!" Dimly, Adam was aware of a gentle motion beneath him, and of a familiar voice calling his name. He eased his eyes open, blinking a few times as they adjusted to the bright early-afternoon sun. Belle's face hovered above his, her head surrounded by a halo of sunlight. As he raised himself onto his elbows, he realized that he was still in the rowboat. Belle was kneeling on the landing beside him, and her hand grasped the edge of the boat. She was regarding him with a mix of relief and amusement. "What are you doing in here?"<p>

Adam looked around, still feeling a bit disoriented. "I was playing hide and seek with Chip."

"Chip?" Belle asked with a bemused smile. "I saw him a few minutes ago; he was helping his mother in the kitchen." Adam's mouth fell open, and Belle laughed. "I guess he got tired of looking for you."

"How did _you_ find me?"

Belle pursed her lips. "Well, it's taken me the better part of an hour. But fortunately, your dog appears to be part bloodhound." She inclined her head toward the edge of the pond, where Sultan sat wagging his tail happily.

"That's cheating."

Belle crossed her arms. "Well I wouldn't have needed his help if you hadn't fallen asleep."

Adam opened his mouth to retort, and then immediately shut it. She had him there. "So are you done with your dress fitting?" he asked, changing the subject.

Belle grimaced. "For now."

"For _now_? You were in there all morning!"

"I know! My shoulders are still sore from standing in that heavy dress for so long," Belle complained. "And Madame Armoire has already warned me that she needs me to come back later so she can take a few more measurements."

As if on cue, Madame Armoire's voice rang out over the rows of hedges and flower beds. "Belle! Belle, darling, are you out here? I've just had a _marvelous_ idea for the train!"

A look of panic crossed Belle's face. "Do you think there's room for two in there?" she asked breathlessly, nodding toward the rowboat.

Adam laughed and slid over to make some space. "There's only one way to find out."


	7. Ugly

_This one's a cheat (in more ways than one), but I couldn't resist. Happy Holidays!_

* * *

><p>"Adam?" Belle called. "Are you almost ready? Christmas dinner is going to be cold by the time we get down there." She gave her appearance a final once-over in the mirror before pivoting on the bench to search for her husband.<p>

"Why don't you go on without me?" came Adam's voice from the other side of the dressing screen in the corner of the bedroom. It wasn't normally like him to be so modest, but he had disappeared behind the partition the moment Belle had entered the room. In fact, he had remained hidden there for the full twenty minutes that it had taken Belle to change and prepare for the holiday celebration.

Belle frowned. "Aren't you nearly done? I'd rather go down together."

"Well, I ... I don't think I'm going to dinner."

Belle got quickly to her feet. "What? Why not? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Adam said hastily. "I'm just ... you know, I'm not very hungry." His stomach immediately revealed his lie by emitting a low, loud rumble that could be heard clearly even from across the room.

Belle's frown deepened. Obviously, Adam didn't want to join the rest of the household for dinner. The question was, why not? Adam had been in high spirits all day - in fact, he had been in high spirits all holiday season, which this year had seemed to start especially early. All signs of the surliness he had exhibited the year before had vanished; he had participated in all of the usual festivities with as much enthusiasm as anyone. If he had had a change of heart, it had come without warning - not that his occasional mood swings _needed_ much advance notice, Belle mused ruefully. Still, she knew to tread with caution if she had any hope of talking him out of his misgivings.

"I don't understand," Belle said carefully. "Why don't you want to come to dinner?"

"I _do_ want to go to dinner," Adam insisted. "I just can't go like_ this_."

"Like _what_?"

"It's ... hard to explain."

"Try. _Please_."

Adam groaned. "All right, all right. Mrs. Potts gave me a Christmas gift this morning. It was ... a piece of clothing that she asked me to wear to dinner. And I don't want to seem ungrateful, or to hurt her feelings when she obviously worked so hard on it, but ... but I _can't_ wear this."

Belle smiled slowly, finally understanding Adam's predicament. "Maybe it's not as bad as you think it is. Why don't you let me have a look?"

Adam sighed heavily. "You have to promise not to laugh."

"I promise," Belle swore with some trepidation, fervently hoping that she would be able to keep her word.

Adam reluctantly emerged from behind the screen, eyes cast down at his neatly polished boots. Tucked into the tops of the boots were a pair of fine black breeches of the style he customarily favored. But in place of his usual dress shirt and jacket was a handmade sweater of red, green, and white, with a garish snowflake pattern woven into the wool.

"I realize it's my fault that Mrs. Potts hasn't been able to knit for ten years," Adam grumbled. "But I didn't think she'd be the sort to hold a grudge."

"I wouldn't take it personally," Belle responded wryly.

Adam finally looked up. His eyes widened, and his lips began to twitch when his gaze landed on Belle.

"Is it really that bad?" Belle asked with a sheepish grin.

"It's ... really something," Adam answered in a trembling voice, unable to tear his eyes from her. Over her long black skirt, Belle wore a colorful knitted jumper adorned with a family of frolicking reindeer. Mrs. Potts had wisely left some room in the waistline to accommodate Belle's growing belly, which, although still relatively small, had become noticeably rounder in recent weeks. The swell only served to draw the eye even more insistently to the herd of animals prancing across her midsection.

"It must be a British thing. She made one of these for everyone," Belle remarked with a chagrined smile, pinching the wool of the sweater between her fingers as she inspected a brightly colored pom pom sewn onto the nose of one of the reindeer.

"You mean they're _all_ wearing these to dinner?" Adam asked incredulously.

"_Everyone,_" Belle confirmed with a nod. She smiled impishly. "You should see the one she made for Lumiere."

Adam laughed and held out an arm to his wife. "Well, in that case, it would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner."


	8. Tickled Pink

"How did I know I'd find you in here?"

Belle looked up from her book to see her fiancé smiling at her in amusement from the doorway of the library. "Lucky guess, I suppose?" she responded, marking her place and sliding over on the window seat to make room for him. "But what are _you_ doing here? I thought Cogsworth had you memorizing the lineages of every noble family in the province?"

"Not _every_ family - just half of them," Adam replied with a wince. "The other half, he's saving for tomorrow." He settled himself onto the ledge and slipped an arm around Belle's shoulders. She looked up at him expectantly, and he realized that he hadn't answered her question. "I snuck out when he left to help Lumière," he explained.

"You know he's not going to be happy about that," Belle cautioned him.

"I know," Adam sighed. "But I couldn't take another minute cooped up in that study. I've been in there since morning reading over those dusty old books - he even had me take breakfast and lunch in there!"

"He's been working you pretty hard lately," Belle observed sympathetically, resting her head on his shoulder and reaching for his hand.

Adam nodded wearily and threaded his fingers through hers. "The wedding has him wound even tighter than usual. He's afraid I'll say the wrong thing to the wrong person and end up starting a war."

Belle laughed. "I'm sure he doesn't think that."

"Those were his exact words."

"Oh." Belle bit her lip. "French politics are certainly more complicated than I imagined."

"You don't regret getting mixed up in all of this, do you?"

Belle turned in her seat so that she could look him in the eyes. "As long as it means I get to be with you, then no." She smiled sweetly as she leaned toward him, and all of Adam's complaints were forgotten the instant her lips met his. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer as he returned the kiss. _This_ was why he was subjecting himself to the endless nagging and lectures and scrutiny, he reminded himself. And she was worth it. She slid her hands from his chest to the back of his neck and tugged the ribbon from his hair, freeing it from its neat ponytail. Adam's heart pounded as she leaned into him and knotted her fingers in the strands. He dragged his hand up her side slowly, his fingertips just barely grazing the thin fabric of her dress, and he felt her shiver in his arms. He was doing his best to ignore the nagging little voice in his head that urged him not to get too carried away when, without warning, Belle let out an abrupt little squeak and recoiled from his touch.

"What is it?" Adam gasped, breaking the kiss and yanking his hands back as quickly as if they had been burned. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" He reached tentatively for her waist, his eyes full of concern as he searched for any sign of injury.

To his surprise, Belle giggled breathlessly, and her face flushed, almost as if in embarrassment. "Oh _no_, I'm fine," she assured him earnestly. "That just tickled a little bit."

Adam sagged against the wall in relief. Belle was ok; he hadn't hurt her. As his heart began to slow to a more normal pace, his eyes dropped to his lap, and he examined his hands thoughtfully. They were soft and smooth, just as they _should_ be, and yet they were unfamiliar to him. He still half expected to see the shaggy fur and the long, razor-sharp claws - the claws that he had feared would harm Belle if he dared to touch her. Features that had been a part of him for nearly half of his life had been erased in a matter of moments by a shower of sparkling rain; one minute they were there, and the next, it was if they had never existed at all. He hadn't been sorry to see them go, and yet he hadn't quite expected that the seeds of apprehension and self-consciousness that they had sown in his psyche would prove so much harder to shake.

He flinched as Belle placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are _you_ all right?" she asked softly. "You got so quiet all of the sudden."

Adam covered her hand with his and smiled at her reassuringly. "I'm fine. I'm sorry if I -"

He broke off suddenly as it dawned on him what he had been about to apologize for, and he tilted his head curiously. "Wait a minute. You never told me you were ticklish."

Belle froze, and her eyes widened with the realization that she had just given up a crucial piece of information. "I - I'm not," she stammered.

Adam scoffed. "You're much better at kissing than you are at lying."

"I'm _not_ lying," Belle insisted, backing away from him slowly and deliberately.

"You _are_." Adam grinned in disbelief. "You're_ ticklish_. I can't believe I didn't know this! Now where _was_ that spot?" he murmured to himself, stretching his hand toward her and wiggling his fingers teasingly.

She swatted his hand away. "Don't you dare!" she warned.

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Or what?" he asked playfully.

Instead of responding, she pulled him toward her and pressed her lips to his again, this time with even more ardor than before. He knew what she was trying to do; she was trying to distract him so that he would drop the subject. And in most circumstances, it probably would have worked. But Adam was too fascinated by his newfound discovery to be so easily deterred. He couldn't help his hands from creeping up her torso to lightly brush that little spot just below her ribcage, and when he found it, he was rewarded with a shriek of laughter. "_Adam_!"

On the other side of the library doors, Cogsworth and Lumière stopped dead in their tracks. "Well, I suppose we found him," Cogsworth remarked dryly. "But _what_ is going on in there?"

"I'm not certain," Lumière responded, backing away from the doors warily. "But _perhaps_ we should come back later."


	9. The Ring

Adam lay back on his pillow, studying the ring that encircled his fourth finger with a combination of curiosity and amazement. The little gold band turned in his fingertips as he slid it back and forth over the knuckle. It wasn't very big - in fact, it was far more understated than the flashy baubles he had been so fond of flaunting in the days before he was cursed - and yet the small piece of metal felt so conspicuously _odd_ on his finger. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, and yet he was constantly aware of its presence. Which, he supposed, was why he found it so hard to resist toying with it.

"You're going to lose it if you keep doing that," a teasing voice warned. He turned his head to see Belle lying beside him, propped up on her elbow. Her hair was tousled and hung loosely around her bare shoulders. She was smiling at him with such tenderness that he felt his heart immediately swell with love for her. He thought that she had never looked more beautiful to him than she did in that instant. And that was saying something. Just a day earlier, when he had finally gotten his first glimpse of her in the magnificent and much-ballyhooed gown that Madame Armoire had spent weeks toiling over - the gown that now lay crumpled somewhere on the floor of the West Wing - he was certain that his heart had stopped beating for just a moment. Everyone had agreed that she was the most radiant bride they had ever seen.

"I'm not going to _lose_ it," he scoffed, finally finding his voice. "I was just ... looking at it. It feels so strange to have something on my finger. Doesn't it feel strange to you?"

"A little," Belle admitted, lifting her left hand to inspect the matching ring on her own finger. "But it's only been a day. Give it some time, and I'm sure you'll get used to it. You certainly seemed to have no trouble getting used to _other_ aspects of married life," she observed with a playful arch of her brow.

Adam grinned and pulled her in to his side. "I didn't exactly hear _you_ complaining either." He dipped his head to leave a trail of kisses along her neck, but pulled back in surprise when he was interrupted by a loud, low growl. "That wasn't me, I swear."

Belle blushed and placed a hand on her stomach. "It was me. I guess in all of the excitement yesterday, I forgot to eat."

"Are you hungry? I'm sure breakfast is nearly ready. In fact, I'm surprised no one has come to wake us yet."

Belle slid from the bed, wrapping a sheet around her body as she made her way to the wardrobe. "Do they actually come in to wake you?" she asked as she selected a dark pink dress and undergarments.

"Every morning. Don't they wake you?"

"Never," Belle laughed. "I'm usually awake before they are. Force of habit, I suppose."

"Well I guess I'll have to break you of that habit," Adam teased as he sat up in the bed.

"You can try," Belle responded lightly, before disappearing behind the dressing screen.

Adam fell silent, a little smile creeping across his lips as he considered that challenge. The room was so quiet that he could hear the light rustle of fabric behind the screen as Belle changed into her dress. He looked down at his ring and slid it off again without even thinking about what he was doing. He held it up to his eye and peered through it, squeezing the other eye shut. Suddenly, he lost his grip, and the band slipped from his fingertips. Adam gasped and dove for it, but it was immediately swallowed up by the thick, downy comforter that covered his lower body.

"Are you all right?" Belle called out, her voice tinged with concern.

"I'm fine," Adam lied, thinking quickly. "I just ... got a little chill."

"Well it's no wonder." Belle smirked as she stepped out from behind the screen and nodded toward his exposed chest. "Maybe you'd warm up if you got moving and put some clothes on," she suggested, tossing him a robe. He instinctively reached out to catch the robe, and then - remembering the naked finger on his left hand - quickly yanked the garment into his body, wrapping the soft material around his hand as he did so. _Whew!_

"That's a good idea," he agreed. "But you don't need to wait for me; you go on ahead, and I'll meet you in the dining hall."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll be there before Mrs. Potts brings the tea out," he promised.

"All right then. Don't be too long." Belle leaned over to give him one more kiss before heading down to breakfast.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Adam threw the covers off - and heard the distinct _clink_ of something metallic landing on the floor. "_Zut_!" He scrambled out of the bed, hastily throwing the robe around his body. _Where did it go_? His eyes swept across the floor, but there was no sign of his ring.

Adam crouched down to look under the nightstand, but it wasn't there. He checked below the armchair with the same result. He stretched his arm beneath the large bed and felt around on the floor, but his fingers met nothing but smooth, cold marble. Grunting, he rolled to his stomach to get a better look, and shimmied himself along the floor so that his entire upper body disappeared beneath the bed skirt. But it was no use; it was too dark under the bed to see anything.

"Master? What are you _doing_?"

Adam jerked at the sound of Cogsworth's voice and promptly bumped his head on the bottom of the bed frame. "Ow!"

"Oh dear." He heard Cogsworth's feet shuffle quickly across the floor. "Are you all right?"

Adam carefully eased himself out from beneath the bed, rubbing the back of his head gingerly once he had worked himself free. "I'm fine, Cogsworth. I just bumped my head."

"But what were you _doing_ under there?"

"I was ...er ... I was just looking for something."

Cogsworth's brow furrowed. "Under the bed, sire?"

"Yes ..."

"But what could you possibly hope to find _there_?"

"I was hoping to find my ...," Adam trailed off as he stole a glance over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. He gulped. He knew Cogsworth wasn't going to be happy with him, but perhaps it would help to have an ally. "... my wedding ring," he whispered loudly.

"Your -" Cogsworth's eyes flickered to Adam's left hand, as if holding out some hope that Adam was simply playing a joke on him, before widening in panic. "Oh. Oh _my_." His breaths came out in little gasps. "How did you - how did you lose your wedding ring _already_?"

"I was playing with it, and it just ... sort of ... slipped out of my hand." Adam cringed.

"All right." Cogsworth closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully. "We need to find it before Belle notices that it's gone," he said matter-of-factly. "And you think it rolled under the bed?"

"Maybe? I know it's somewhere on the floor. But it's too dark to see anything under there."

"Well we can fix that, at least." Cogsworth marched to the window and pulled the heavy drapes back, letting a flood of bright sunshine into the room. "How is that?"

Adam lowered himself back onto the floor and lifted the bed skirt once more. "Better," he agreed. In fact, now that there was some light, he could see it glinting off of something underneath the far side of the bed. "I think I see it!" he exclaimed. "Over near your side!" He started to crawl toward it.

"Oh _no_, Master," Cogsworth reprimanded him. "You shouldn't be crawling around on the floor like some silly house pet. Allow me." Cogsworth dropped down and squeezed himself under the bed, stretching his arm toward the glimmering little object. "I've got it!" he announced excitedly, closing his fingers around it.

"Is it my ring?" Adam asked hopefully, rushing around to Cogsworth's side of the bed.

"I think so!" The bed skirt rustled as Cogsworth's legs wiggled beneath it. Then, abruptly, his legs went still. "Oh dear."

"Cogsworth? What is it? What's wrong?"

"I -" Cogsworth grunted. His legs wriggled once more. "I can't ... I can't seem to get out."

"You're _stuck_?"

"It would appear so."

"Well here, maybe I can get you unstuck." Adam grabbed Cogsworth by the ankles and gave a tug, but Cogsworth didn't budge. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and tried again, but this resulted in nothing more than a little _oof!_ from Cogsworth, who remained stubbornly wedged between the floor and the bed frame. "Maybe if you tried to sort of ... suck it in, a little?" Adam suggested hesitantly.

"What are you saying?" Cogsworth's voice was muffled slightly, but the note of indignation carried clearly.

"I can go get one of the others to help instead," Adam shot back.

"No!" After a few moments' silence, he heard Cogsworth grumble, grudgingly. "We'll do it your way."

"Fine. On the count of three," Adam ordered, wrapping his hands around Cogsworth's ankles once more. He sat himself on the floor, bent his legs, and braced the bottoms of his feet against the bed frame. "One ... two ..." - he heard Cogsworth gasp loudly - "three!" Adam pulled with all of his might, at the same time pushing with his feet against the bed. Slowly, Cogsworth's posterior slid into view.

"It's working!" Cogsworth shouted breathlessly.

"One more time!" Adam urged, afraid they'd lose their momentum if they stopped for even a short a break. "One ... two ... three!" With a mighty tug, the rest of Cogsworth's body abruptly pulled free. The force of it sent Adam sprawling backward, one of Cogsworth's shoes still stuck in his grasp. Cogsworth groaned and rolled onto his back, one hand splayed across his belly and the other clutching Adam's ring. "You got it!" Adam sighed gratefully. He cradled the ring carefully in both hands as Cogsworth put his shoe back on. "I promise I will _never_ take you off again," he swore as he slid the ring onto his finger. "Thank you, Cogsworth."

"Don't mention it," Cogsworth muttered, straightening his wayward toupée. Then he froze suddenly and cleared his throat. "You - ahem - you _won't_ mention any of this to Lumière, will you?" he asked anxiously.

Adam winced. "Not as long as you don't say anything to Belle about me losing my ring."

Cogsworth looked him in the eye and nodded solemnly. "Deal."


End file.
